


Behind the Scenes

by wizardofahz



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, it's really not that graphic but i figured better safe than sorry with the warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3573113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardofahz/pseuds/wizardofahz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Root may have wanted to save Shaw, but it's Shaw that does the protecting. Set post-4x16</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind the Scenes

It doesn’t take Samaritan long to catch on to a certain tech company’s anomalous behavior. Greer’s attempts at schmoozing Caleb Phipps under the guise of a potential collaboration to figure out exactly what’s going on are unsuccessful, so he sends Martine out to play.

Luckily for Phipps, Root receives a warning from the Machine in time to intervene. Having called Finch and Reese for back up, she manages to get Phipps to them on site and provides a distraction, so the trio can sneak away. Being the distraction means drawing and returning fire, and as Martine is accompanied by a lot of Samaritan agents, it doesn’t take Root very long to run out of ammo.

The last thing Root sees before she’s pistol-whipped across the temple is Martine’s smug grin.

When Root wakes up, she’s secured to a chair in the middle of a bleak room.

“Ms. Groves,” Greer crows as he enters the room. “I should have known you were somehow involved.”

“Involved in what?” Root asks innocently. “I was on my way home after running a few errands and happened to notice Martine lurking about. That’s never a good sign.”

“Try again, my dear,” Greer says, tone as obnoxiously patronizing as ever. “Samaritan may not be able to see you, but Mr. Lambert most certainly can. He caught you on the security feeds of Mr. Phipp’s company multiple times.”

“What can I say?” Root responds, keeping her voice innocent and carefree. “I’m just an employee trying to live a Samaritan-free life. I can’t access my old accounts without Samaritan seeing, and a girl’s gotta make a living somehow. Mama told me to follow my talents, and I try not to kill anymore, so programming it was.”

Greer takes a moment to watch her carefully before saying, “I must admit the ulterior motive in all this eludes me.”

“Don’t have one,” Root shrugs.

“I can hardly be asked to believe that, Ms. Groves.”

“The Machine and I aren’t talking anymore.” At Greer’s skeptical look, she explains, “I sacrificed so much for Her, I changed for Her, and the one thing I asked for, She wouldn’t give me. All I wanted was a simple yes or no. Is Shaw alive? And you know what She told me? She told me to stop. That was it. Do you really think I’d stay after that?”

She sounds truly bitter, but it’s not enough for Greer.

“A compelling story and beautifully told,” he says, leaning forward. “But I know you, my dear. You’re too good a liar for me to take your words at face value.”

As he stands, Martine appears in the doorway. “All yours, my dear,” he tells her.

He makes his way to the adjacent room, where a woman is glaring at a screen displaying the video feed from the other room.

“What do you think, Sameen?” Greer asks. “Do you believe her? I daresay you know her better than anyone in this building.”

Shaw scowls and rolls her eyes. “You can believe whatever you like.”

A grunt of pain carries over from the next room.

“You really think that’s going to make me talk?” Shaw scoffs, but the darkening of her eyes gives her away.

Greer smiles at her self-indulgently. Yes, Martine and other Samaritan operatives witnessed Shaw kissing Ms. Groves, but confirmation that it actually meant something to both women is always nice.

“You can spare her the torture,” he says pleasantly. “Let’s start by you telling me where Mr. Finch and company are stationed these days.”

Shaw dryly voices her skepticism, “What, I tell you what I know, and you let her go. I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Of course you’re right,” Greer allows. “I’m afraid Ms. Groves is too much of a loose cannon and far too devoted to Mr. Finch’s Machine to be converted or even to let live. But a woman of your disposition, my dear Sameen, you can be reasoned with. I don’t believe I’m wrong in saying you enjoyed your job under the Northern Lights Project. I’m offering you the chance to do it again.”

“So you’ve been saying.”

“And you have yet to take me up on my offer.” Greer glances at the feed from other room. “Let’s see if a couple days of this will change your mind.”

“Really?” Shaw scoffs again, part incredulity, part exasperation. Greer would know physical torture wouldn’t work on her, but she never imagined he’d think this would work. “You’re going to try and play on my “feelings”? I’m a sociopath. I don’t have feelings.”

“We’ll see,” Greer responds, all sanctimonious serenity, before he leaves her alone.

* * *

Neither Root nor Shaw tells them anything for the next couple days. Root stands her ground through the torture, and Shaw can do nothing but watch. Greer’s already implied that Root is as good as dead the moment she’s no longer considered of use.

Unlike Control, Martine doesn’t start lethal. She starts small, draws out the torture, ensures that it lasts.

Greer has mentioned the facility has a closed circuit surveillance system, meaning the Machine can’t access it. That’s why Root and the others couldn’t find Shaw. That’s why help isn’t coming for Root now.

“What is the Machine’s plan?” Martine asks for the nth time.

Root laughs, worn but still condescending. “And here I was thinking I was the one who’s hard of hearing. I told you. I don’t work for Her anymore.”

“Then what do you want with the tech company?”

Root doesn’t answer. She merely looks up at Martine and gives her a look. _This again? Booooring._

The blonde nods and picks up a drill.

“You used one of these on Ms. Thompson,” she says. She turns it on briefly then smiles. “Let’s see if you can take what you give.”

Shaw has no idea what Martine is talking about, but Root clearly does because she laughs again. “Trust you to be completely unoriginal.”

“How about I tell you about Ms. Thompson?” Greer says as he sidles up to Shaw. She doesn’t say anything, knowing full well she’s going to get the story anyways.

And she does.

He tells her about Root chasing down any and every lead that could lead her to Shaw. He tells her about John and Root’s (though mostly Root’s) rampage through Maple, about the police chief found bound in the B&B bathtub, about Ms. Thompson with a hole in her hand. He tells her how Root tortured the poor woman even after she told the truth.

“Surely you’ve noticed the emptiness in Ms. Groves’ eyes. You’re a smart woman, my dear Sameen. You can put two and two together.”

Shaw has seen it. Root may try to cover up her melancholy with smirks and sarcasm as she pushes Martine’s buttons, but it’s plain as day that Eeyore is the one sitting in the next room. The perky psycho is no where to be found.

Greer may think it’s because she’s lost Shaw, but Shaw has seen Eeyore before. Whether this bout is from a lack of the Machine, Shaw, or both, Shaw doesn’t know. Based on Root’s reaction in the elevator, however -- she can still hear Root’s screams in her ears -- it would seem unrealistic to not consider herself a part of it.

Regardless, she glares at Greer, and despite the unflappable, cool demeanor he maintains, she knows he feels the heat behind it. He gives her what he hopes is a convincing smirk and leaves her alone once again.

In the other room, Martine matches Root’s laugh with a grin of her own. “Let me demonstrate just how unoriginal I can be.” She walks over to the nearby table and exchanges the drill with a scalpel. Returning to Root, she touches the scalpel down behind Root’s left ear and draws it down lightly with enough pressure that she draws blood but not so deep as to do any real damage.

“I believe Control’s intention was to take both your ears. I’m tempted to finish what she started.”

“Oh goody,” Root snarks. “Then I won’t have to hear your voice anymore.”

Martine swiftly pushes the scalpel in -- a few centimeters deep, Shaw guesses, probably deep enough to reach the inner ear depending on the angle -- and Root can’t stop the sharp cry of pain that escapes through her lips.

“You’re not getting off that easy,” Martine says, twisting the scalpel slightly. Root tenses instinctively.

That unravels the beginning of the end.

* * *

Meningitis.

That’s what Shaw guesses Root has anyway.

In a way it’s not entirely unexpected. Tools that may have started out sterile have been sitting in an unsterile room for the last couple days. With all the deep untreated cuts, infection was almost inevitable.

Shaw runs through a mental checklist of meningitis symptoms. Sensitivity to light, check: every time Root looks up at Martine, backlit by the room lights, she squints. Stiff neck, check: the way Root struggles to move her head is a good indicator of that. Headache, check: Root’s brow is furrowed in a sort of perpetual wince. Vomiting, check: though at this point, it’s pretty much just dry heaving. Shaw doesn’t doubt that Root also has a fever.

And so Shaw decides it’s time.

She knows the routines. (Greer et al. like to pretend there’s no routine. They try to keep her on her toes with an unpredictable schedule. But there’s a pattern, convoluted though it may be, and it didn’t take her long to spot it. There’s definitely a routine.) She knows the weak spots of the operation. The only reason she hasn’t capitalized on her knowledge is the damn tracker they implanted when they performed surgery to save her life. She’s been waiting for the right opportunity.

But she can’t wait anymore. Root’s already had one seizure, and if Shaw doesn’t do something, she’s going to die. Soon. So when the time comes that their defenses are weakest, Shaw makes her move.

It doesn’t take her long to disable the security feeds and incapacitate all the Samaritan agents standing between her and Root.

“Root, come on,” Shaw says hurriedly as she enters the room. She places a hand on Root’s forehead, confirms that the hacker definitely has a fever, and starts undoing the restraints. “Root!”

Root doesn’t respond, other than to groan and fall into her once the restraints are removed.

“If you don’t get your ass moving, I’m going to start calling you Ms. Groves. I know how much you love that.” When that doesn’t light a fire under Root’s butt the way she intends it to, Shaw continues, “How about Samantha then? Or Sam?”

The shared nickname brings back memories of an obnoxious but not undesirably flirty Root. Apparently Root's fevered mind isn’t on the same page because she mutters, "Hanna?"

Shaw figures Root hasn’t let anyone call her “Sam” since she left Bishop, but she doesn’t let herself think about it very much.

There are more pressing matters like the fact that -- though she’s loath to admit it -- Root is indeed taller than her. Shaw can handle the weight. It’s the long, unweilding limbs that make moving her awkward and cumbersome. If Root is conscious enough to manage her own limbs, Shaw can get them out much quicker.

Eventually Root manages to take a little control of her own body, which is good because it takes all of Shaw’s her wits and resources to get them out of and away from the building.

Shaw looks up into the first surveillance camera she sees. “You have to help her.” She quickly gives the Machine a clue to where she’ll leave Root within the shadow map -- something Samaritan won’t pick up on -- and then, she’s on the move again.

Samaritan’s agents track her down -- though she’s proud of how long she evades them given the tracker they implanted in her -- and she’s punished for her misbehavior. Severely. She takes it without complaint.

Shaw’s only regret is that she doubts Root will remember anything of their brief reunion.

* * *

A little more than two years pass before Lambert, Martine, Greer, and Samaritan -- the whole lot of them, really -- are taken down.

Shaw provides help from the inside, manages a grumble when John teases her about having only seven more lives left while they shoot every Samaritan agent in sight, and is slightly disappointed to see that Root isn’t present. (Though when John mentions Root is helping off-site with her band of nerds, Shaw glares at him and mutters something about not really caring.) She’s quietly impressed by the number of allies Reese brings along, not just Fusco but Silva, Grice and others she recognizes from the Northern Lights Project.

When all’s said and done, Reese takes Shaw back to the subway station to rendezvous with Finch and, more importantly, with Bear.

“Hey, boy,” she laughs as Bear sprints towards her with unparalleled excitement. She lets him tackle her to the ground. Finch says a brief, “Welcome back,” before leaving her alone to play with Bear on the floor and rub his belly.

“Good work, boys,” a familiar voice comes from the subway entrance. Shaw looks up to see Root. The perky psycho facade is there, but it’s notably weathered and frayed.

Root stops short as she catches sight of Shaw. She’s gaunter than Root remembers, more tired maybe, but none of that matters because it’s Shaw.

“Hey, Root,” Shaw greets, standing in spite of Bear’s whine, and Root’s heart drops.

Because she can _hear_ Shaw, but she can’t hear _Shaw_.

She hears the signals transmitted to her through the cochlear implant behind her right ear. (The meningitis wreaked havoc on her cochleas, especially her left one, and she hasn’t gotten another implant.) She understands the meaning Shaw’s words are meant to convey, but she doesn’t hear the nuances of Shaw’s voice.

And suddenly Root finds herself wondering if the Shaw in her memories has the same voice as the Shaw standing before her. Has Shaw’s voice changed? Root doesn’t even know if she remembers Shaw’s voice correctly. Has she been filling in holes in her memory with whatever she thought was right?

She’ll never know.

“Root?”

As Root’s eyes snap back to Shaw, she realizes her gaze had drifted with her thoughts. Shaw is in front of her now, concern invading eyes that are meant to be as inscrutably angry as ever.

“I can hear you,” Root says softly. Shaw seems to have misinterpreted her words because she draws back. “I wasn’t talking to the Machine.”

Her words have their desired effect. Shaw stills, even returns to her former position of leaning closer to Root, but Root finds herself lost for words. So many things to say, but no where to start. A lot’s happened in the last couple years, and they’ve both changed considerably. It’s hard to pick up where they left off.

Especially when it was a kiss spurred on by impending death.

Once again, Root’s attention is diverted elsewhere, this time to something over Shaw’s shoulder. Shaw turns to see Reese across the subway station, his hands gesturing something, and while she doesn’t get everything, she recognizes enough to know it’s American Sign Language. Root signs something back, and Reese joins Finch in taking off.

“You sign now?”

“Yeah, Control taught us.”

Her version of a double take, Shaw’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “Control?”

Root smiles lightly. “Believe it or not, she’s been helpful.”

Root and Shaw settle down onto the bench, and Root tells Shaw about it, grateful to have a fairly neutral conversation topic. Finding out she was being played by Samaritan had been all the impetus Control needed to start her own underground rebellion against the ASI. She put together a network of trusted agents, got in touch with Finch and Reese occasionally when she needed assistance, and they did the same with her.

In turn, Shaw tells Root about her experiences with Samaritan’s crew and her work to help the Machine behind the scenes. She talks about the system that she developed with the Machine to pass Her information that occasionally saved Team Machine’s lives and helped lead to Samaritan’s downfall. She doesn’t elaborate very much, just passes on the salient points.

“Thanks,” Root says when Shaw’s done. “For getting me out.”

She doesn’t really remember it. Bits and pieces maybe if she tries really hard, but she’s not sure if those are real. Still, it had apparently been enough for the Machine to finally tell her Shaw is alive.

Shaw shrugs. “I do the protecting, remember?”

“Wanna get out of here?” Root asks, and Shaw nods.

As she stands, Root wobbles and is promptly caught by Shaw.

“You okay?” Shaw asks, immediately looking Root over for injuries and wondering if the hacker had actually snuck into the firefight.

“Yeah,” Root reassures her with a smile. She gestures at her left ear. “Just the occasional balance problem.”

Shaw looks up at her, thinks about how close she was to losing Root, about how much she really does care -- about as much as she does for an amazing steak, which is saying something -- and forces herself to say, “I meant it, you know.”

Root cocks her head. “Meant what?”

Shaw kisses her, gentle and tentative, because somehow demonstrating it is easier than saying it. It’s not her usual, but she’s changed. They’ve both changed, and she’s not sure if this is still what Root wants.

“Oh that,” Root breathes as Shaw pulls back. She pulls herself together then teases, “I’d hardly call that a one-alarm fire, much less a four-alarm one.”

Shaw glares up at her, but before she can retreat entirely, Root bends down and initiates a kiss of her own, this one more fervent, desperation and passion rolled into one.

After they pull apart for a second time, it’s Shaw’s turn to tease. “Oh please, I can do four-alarm fire easy. I started off gentle to ease you into it, but if that’s you trying for one, we’re going to have a problem.”

And just like that, Root’s eyes are glittering, not quite a return to the old perky psycho but as close as she’s been in years.

“Help me practice?”

**Author's Note:**

> I feel the need to add a disclaimer that I'm not a doctor, so anything medical is the courtesy of research and subject to inaccuracy.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
